KKM 'Entre'Acte'
by tigersilver
Summary: Conrad and Yozak ruminate about the past and the moments that have brought them to this pause between acts.


ENTRE'ACTE

Lord Conrad Weller's life seemed to be a series of cycles. Some were good, some not so good; taken all together, they comprised his current orbit and defined it.

_Yozak Gurrier found constant surprises to be exhilarating – perhaps that was why he was such a good spy. Life was rich and full because of them, for he was a person who'd learned to put his past behind him whenever he could, and love the pretty flowers as they lay. _

Looking back, there was first young Weller's Mazoku birthright, forfeit through no fault of his own. The child of a human, even with the finest von Spitzburg blood running through him, was no proper Mazoku at all.

_Lord von Kleist was just as much the drama queen as he ever was, glaring daggers at Yozak when a startled Gwendal shrugged him off his lap. Yozak grinned: if they thought they were keeping this a secret, they were sadly mistaken. He closed the study door again with snap and considered his next move. He was here to report in, but that could wait till the violet-haired Lord had some clothes on and his boss took care of that painful hard-on. There were, after all, plenty of people at Blood Pledge Yozak needed to catch up with. _

Off course from the very beginning, Conrad fought to find a path that would compensate. When he was very young this was a palpable struggle, for the blows that knocked him askew were muffled in whispered gossip and disguised by sideways stares and not one of his loving adults seemed to notice these subtle slights with the clarity he did.

Still, this was a cycle he could understand and even get used to, over time. There were things to make up for it: his mother's undiluted love, his father's positive energy, his older half-brother's stern acceptance. Friendship, of sorts, in the form of that orphaned boy his father rescued. Purpose, in his goal of becoming a swordsman fit to follow in Lord Dan Hiri Weller's footsteps. A small Conrad found he could even be proud of the ill-begotten star that followed him, for no other child had such a marvelous father as he.

_Yozak had breakfast in the barracks, something he always did when he could. Soldiers knew things that regular people didn't and he had a vested interest in knowing things, given his job. Spying, though not for everyone, seemed to suit him to a T; he supposed he should be grateful for Captain's parting suggestion to his older brother. Nice of Captain to think of him at all, considering. _

Conrad's comfy world wobbled into a disastrous tailspin when Dan Hiri departed for the last time, taking Gwendal with him on some unknown quest. Mama hugged him and hugged him and cried like there was no tomorrow, and a miserable Conrad swallowed back his own sobs and slept with his father's sword stuffed under his mattress. Young Weller's hard-earned pride wouldn't allow him to appear before a teasing Yozak the next morning with red eyes and dark circles, though he was sure his best friend understood full well the extent of his loss.

They didn't discuss it, however. Yozak saved his sharp words for the string of unworthy lovers Mama collected over the following years. His biting tongue and delicious mockery became a shield for his good buddy Conrad to hide behind when it became clear Dan Hiri would never return. Still, young Lord Weller was grateful when Mama married again. The circle of 'family', no matter how wretchedly patched together, cushioned the restlessness of his wandering soul. With Gwendal finally returned from managing his own lands and with Mama tripping around Blood Pledge happily once more, a blushing newlywed, there was once again constancy in Weller's life. If a rebellious Conrad didn't like von Bielefeld particularly much, so what? No one could ever replace his own father, after all.

_Speaking of Captain Conrad Weller, Yozak wondered briefly how he was doing. It'd been a while since he'd seen him but then that was Shinou for you, all secretive and all-knowing, sending people off on hush-hush missions for the good of the State. No mere mortal half-breed would ever understand the workings of the Mazoku god-king – maybe he shouldn't even try. Still, Shinou had done him a favor, Yozak figured, sending his old pal off to that Earth place. He hoped Conrad had lost that horrible deadness in his hazel eyes while he was over there – the look that was flat, and frozen, and hopeless. He really did. _

Besides, he was busy. They were all busy, Conrad's classmates, preparing for battle, training endlessly at the school for young Mazoku warriors. It was through Gwendal's influence the plebian Yozak studied there, too – Conrad was ever grateful for a friend at hand – and to his credit, the redhead loved mischief even more than Conrad did. Friends as canny as Gurrier came in handy when one got in trouble with the teachers, especially that prissy von Kleist asshole, who was just as likely to wear one's ears off with a boring lecture as dole out a proper whipping as his fellows did. A teenaged Weller found he could make a few waves here and there, give those full-bloods a run for their money, and find his way more surely to his rightful place as second-born Prince of the Realm.

_Ah, the 'good old days', back when he was young and full of piss-and-vinegar. He and Captain'd loved a good time, sometimes even more than duty – godsdamned, but Lord von Kleist could go on and on about 'duty' and 'country' and 'honor first'. It bored Yozak silly to even remember it, and he wished he could forget. Not that he wanted to forget everything about those first years as a rookie and an underclassman – he and Conrad had had some fun. His pal had been a lot more lively then – not at all like he'd been the last time Yozak had seen him---_

When Wolfram was born, the remnant of wobble was all but eradicated. A new cycle started, bright and shining with promise. Conrad was needed, adored and clung to by a tiny, angelic sprite. He'd never admitted those small hands held him steady, but the all-seeing, ever-mocking Yozak knew, and never refrained from teasing him about his unhealthy obsession as 'the' Big Brother, the ass.

_Thinking of 'fun', Lieutenant von Lahr – known as 'Liebchen' - of Lord Brat's Blue Brigade was just as pretty as Yozak remembered – and seemed glad to see him back again. Yozak was fond of him, though of course this very heavy flirtation was just that: flirtation. Neither had their hearts engaged in this passing fling, but hey, it did make coming back to Blood Pledge easier, knowing he had a warm welcome waiting from someone. _

The unceremonious exit of the annoying, insulting elder Lord von Bielefeld transformed the newest cycle completely into something nearly sacred. 'Family' was cemented; bonds that had always existed were deepened immeasurably by the profligate lord's absence. Conrad happily took up the slack as _pro tem_ Papa, carting Wolf here and there, teaching him all manner of skills, even the ones Dan Hiri taught him. And if Elder Brother complained that Wolfram was a little spoiled by all the attention, then that was fine. There was a war on; Conrad was here now and could give his little brother everything, and who knew? In a year or five, he might not be.

It was true; he wasn't at Blood Pledge by the time Wolfram was old enough to start taking note of the venom his absent father fed him via post, though miraculously the indubitably half-Human Conrad survived his first few campaigns relatively unscathed. When he returned home months later, stunned and bruised and with a heart heavy as lead, he almost died again, cut to ribbons by the cold rejection his darling little Wolfy offered him…but then, what was he expecting, given the way his kind were treated?

His kind? Well, to be exact, he was neither one nor the other, neither fish, nor flesh, nor good red herring…._and there was no harm in that, was there, Captain?_

_Little 'Lieutenant von Liebchen' never seemed to mind Yozak's parentage, which was a pleasant thing when half-breeds were still eyed askance. Yozak appreciated that as he plunged between the other's loins, panting and sweating, and grimly determined to make the most of this unexpected furlough. It was damned nice that someone missed him – and his cock – since the one_ he_ missed was never around. _

With determination, a sobered Conrad pulled himself off the ropes and got back into the ring, a warm hand steady at his shoulder, an encouraging voice in his ear. Gurrier was with him, as always; Gwendal and Mama still loved him without reservation. A bratty young Wolfram would definitely get over this unreasonable stance one day, perhaps even as soon as he hit puberty and had to fight his own battles. In the meantime, Conrad would do his very best to watch over the young firebrand from a distance, just as Gwendal had when they were all so much younger than they were now.

That was all he needed to keep going, wasn't it? A clear-cut and honorable goal?

Life was merely an orbit around an unsteady star. His star would be his country, his Mama, his brothers. He would serve them to his best ability, he swore it. He would serve them in his father's memory, for no Weller would ever desert his duty in the midst of difficulties and he was the last true Weller left standing.

It seemed that all too soon the war required the Second Prince's presence again. This time, there was no tearful blonde boy to wave him off and pray for his safe return. But there was Yozak, his old pal, as always, the next tent over, the next horse along.

_Liebchen never demanded anything of him, either; nothing, at least, that Yozak wasn't willing to give. The blonde boy wasn't shallow or stupid – merely unengaged, as he was, his heart directed elsewhere. Yozak wished that his own stupid heart would manage to turn its eyes to someone other than Conrad after all this years, but damn, Lord Dan Hiri Weller had taught him to be constant and loyal, and that was a lesson he could not forget. 'Course, fretting about it wasn't going to solve his problems, so he might as well get on with it and have a good time while it lasted. Liebchen was a_ very_ good time. _

Skirmish after skirmish, battle after battle, always with Yozak right by his side. Conrad's daily life became a series of bivouacs and leaky tents, roasted meat and rationed bread, but surely, surely, they were pushing back the hated Humans, he and his fellow half-Human soldiers. Surely, surely, they would triumph in the end. He believed it with all his heart, reaffirmed it as he stuck his sword point deep in someone's chest, turned to slice open the next one, danced nimbly across to the left to cover Yozak, swung deftly to the right to stumble out of a dying comrade's way.

Life was a dance, after all. Balls, balls and more balls. Battles and sorties were interspersed with glittering masquerades and elegant garden parties. As Conrad perfected the exact art of feint and parry with cold steel, so he learned to charm with his tongue, this one and that one, felling Mazoku hearts as he felled the pitiable Humans. Mama's idea of lightening up the war with endless entertainment was novel, but not unexpected. Lady Julia von Wincott, however, was entirely unexpected. Her sudden appearance in his accustomed social circle threw the Second Prince for a loop.

_Jealousy was a bitch after all; a cruel mistress. Yozak had learned his lesson long ago, thanks to Captain. If he could help it, he was never going to allow that green-eyed bitch to disable him like that again. _

For all his low-key flirtations with Lady This and Lord That, Conrad had never felt more than the merest flutter of interest. It was as if the lovely Mazoku gentry he met time and again were flat and soulless, pretty canvases to be appreciated in passing, and nothing more. If he wanted sex, he had Yozak Gurrier readily available, who was as talented with his tongue and limber body as a youthful satyr. If he wanted companionship, there were his fellow officers in the Rutenburg Division, or big brother Gwendal – or even the inimitable von Kleist, whom Mama had made a fixture at Blood Pledge.

Ah, Julia. She was indescribably gentle, a soft luminescent being who floated far above Conrad's horizon, the Moon to Yozak's gusty Sun, the dream to war's harsh awakening. And she was undeniably Lord Adalbert von Grantz's wife-to-be and would be solely Grantz's in the foreseeable future, no matter how some half-blood Prince might yearn for her. Though Conrad did not _yearn_, exactly. What he felt was as indescribable as Julia herself. The word 'love' was too small and earthbound to use for these ethereal emotions. The word 'friend' was equally useless, a puny and half-assed definition. But there was still something – some satisfaction, some assurance - he could obtain only from the shining presence of Julia von Wincott, and no one else. No one else would do.

_Of course, he'd always been jealous as hell – first of Gwendal, then of Wolfram, then of Lord von Kleist. Of every full-blood who eyed a young Conrad hungrily when he wasn't looking. Of every country wench in every tavern they'd frequented, he and Captain, back in the day. He'd been young then, and stupid enough to believe that where the body went, so would the heart follow. So when he got what he'd been wishing for, he'd foolishly believed it was far more meaningful than Captain had ever intended it to be. How droll to learn that he'd been greatly mistaken, after all. _

These were Weller's excuses, at least, for kindly and firmly informing Gurrier he wished to continue their purely physical relationship no longer. His old friend merely shrugged off the meaningless rejection, exactly as Weller expected, and happily moved on to some other fellow, or so Weller assumed.

For one last time, Conrad would attempt to live by heart alone, and be shed of the demands of his tainted body. One last time, and he would give it his all.

This fresh new view of life was exciting and uplifting, tender and sweet, framed by the bleak canvas of war. But it was a heartbreakingly bitter downward spiral, as it turned out – as anyone could've told him, even that fool Yozak. The promise 'White Julia' offered merely by existing was stubbed out as surely as a spent cigar and nearly as quickly. The irony of surviving a heinous and unprecedented massacre only to discover Julia lost forever shattered Conrad's stumbling heart altogether. Not even the worried green eyes that watched carefully over his gradual healing could restore that damaged vessel.

_Still, the lesson had not stopped Yozak Gurrier from staying near his old 'friend'. He could no more leave Conrad than he could rip his heart from his own chest – though he would've, if he could've, since it was a useless organ that caused naught but pain. He was an integral part of Rutenburg Division, after all, and in the end that was fortunate, for it was he who'd survived to discover Shin Makoku's beloved Second Prince, broken and glassy-eyed, sprawled on his elegant back at the side of the dead flag-bearer. _

Lord Conrad Weller was at his lowest when Shinou offered him something unheard of: hope, in the form of Julia's soul. It was not the first time he'd turned his back on one path to choose another – it would not be his last. He regretted things, of course, wishing for a last hug from his mother, a 'good luck' handshake from Gwendal, one final glimpse of sea-blue eyes, but there was no time for that in the Original King's agenda.

_That had been the worst moment of Gurrier's short life thus far – goosebumps still ran across his flesh when he thought of it and no amount of alcohol could drown it altogether. It still had the power to wake him from a sound sleep sometimes, even after sixteen years. _

_Yozak had been glad – glad! – when Shinou sent Captain away. No mortal could bear this worry, this constant nagging fear of loss. The Old King would at least keep Captain safe if he had a purpose for him – if that meant Yozak could no longer see his stupid face, then so be it. It was worth it. _

For a time Conrad's orbit no longer intersected with the ones he'd been familiar with all of his life. New York and Tokyo were horribly foreign; his day job a patent excuse for the world travel required by his new mission. But Japan became familiar after a while and he found he enjoyed the challenges of the import-export business Bob-san loaned him in the interim. Shibuya Yuuri was a gem, of course, pure and transparent as the finest jewel; valued above rubies by all who could see his nascent power.

Slowly, surely as water finds its natural course, Conrad Weller slid into a new path, one oddly familiar from his days of caring for Wolfram, one hauntingly reminiscent of his days of knowing Julia. But still, there was a difference; one that, again, could not be defined by mere words. Somehow, there was less pain, fewer pangs of regret, less damage. It was almost like dreaming, flitting between Japan and New York and Amsterdam, catching glimpses of the young man who would be the next Maou as he grew. Almost like REM sleep, one of the many catch phrases Conrad's quick ears picked up over the years. On Earth, his heart was wrapped in the finest of cottonwool bandages, his wounds blanketed and hidden from anything that might jar them open once more. And there was Yuuri to look forward to, a familiar star to pin his heart on.

With ease came small pleasures, far different from any he'd known. Airplane travel and tropical fish tanks, rollerblading and fencing practice in the French style; red bean paste-filled mochi and deviled eggs. And baseball, which just happened to be the new Maou's favorite sport, as well.

_All worth it, every moment of every day that passed without Conrad Weller in Shin Makoku. You could torture Yozak Gurrier with knives and hot pokers and still he would say the exact same thing. He hoped they wouldn't, though – life was just too much fun when one was free and easy, and not held bound and helpless by care. _

Conrad found he preferred baseball over warfare. "Going home' was something to look forward to; a 'ball' only required that he heft the maple bat once more. 'Stealing bases' was an amusing act, entirely different from 'stealing hearts' – and the worst thing that could possibly happen to him was being forced to sit on a bench and watch the other players – a very far cry from the swift justice of Shin Makoku's bloody battlefields.

Weller even played it periodically; after Bob-san informed him he needed a dedicated second baseman and demanded his attendance at practice whenever Conrad happened to be in Switzerland.

Shibuya Yuuri was fifteen before Lord Weller even blinked, or so it felt. When he'd thought about his homeland over those few short years, safe and snug from his vantage point in a rented high-rise luxury apartment, it was with a sweet rose-tinged nostalgia.

Oh, Shin Makoku, the land he'd been born in – how he wished he could see the verdant fields and stone-bound villages once more! How he missed the antics of his mother, the warm and welcoming glow in his older brother's navy eyes! He even missed Wolfy's childish snubs and good old Yozak's stupid, relentless teasing. He missed sex, too, which only happened to him rarely here on Earth despite his good looks, since Conrad was never willing to commit. It was as if even the Earth Mazoku had been infected by these Human's strange cultural expectations of opposite-sex monogamous marriage, much to Conrad's dismay. Certainly Lord Shoma was devoted to his Jennifer-chan, from what he could see – and she was undeniably adorable, yes. Conrad wondered how this atmosphere – so foreign to his own upbringing - would affect young Yuuri---

--and pledged his poor tattered soul to the goal of making sure Yuuri's life would be cushioned from similar heartbreak and loss. No one so pure and kind as this new Maou should have to go through what Conrad had, no matter what Shinou might require of him.

_In the late afternoon, after Yozak had bathed and changed, his highborn, moody boss was finally ready to be reported to – where von Kleist had gotten to in the meantime, Yozak didn't know and didn't care. He gave his facts clearly and succinctly and waited patiently for von Walde's orders to return to the border, when Gwendal surprised him by directing him somewhere else entirely different. _

_Dan Hiri's grave. By way of the nameless village. Oh, wow. The irony was almost too much to stand. A wave of nostalgia hit Yozak so hard he almost stumbled where he stood, stifling laughter. _

Vaguely, as he was winding up his affairs on Earth, Conrad wondered how his childhood friend was doing, back in good old Shin Makoku. Had he taken to his new job as spymeister - or was Gwendal hampering his free spirit?

He'd have to look him up when he got back to Shin Makoku – if he could find him, that is, because Gurrier had always been a footloose and fancy-free wanderer.

Not like him. He, himself, Weller admitted, was a grumpy, starchy sick-in-the-mud, nearly as bad as Elder Brother, and changes in his routine never came easily.

_There was change on the wind – Yozak could see it in the wry smile Lord von Walde only mostly managed to hide. He could taste it in the bittersweet kiss Liebchen gave him when they parted, both well aware it was for the last time. Ah, well. He'd find another 'Liebchen' somewhere, if it were meant to be. _

_No, he'd definitely find another like him, 'cause life was just too full of unexpected twists-and-turns not to, and he might even love the next one – might even manage to change himself next time. _

_Yozak hoped it would a good change – he loved surprises – for they truly needed, all of them, something to shake them out of this lethargy – someone to make them all sit up and take notice; make them start living again. _

_And Captain? He prayed with all his heart that Lord Conrad Weller had found some happiness in that strange place that existed beyond all Yozak's horizons…for if his true love was still as lost he'd been after Rutenburg – after White Julia - then all Yozak's empty days since would be for naught. _


End file.
